


Five Times Poland, Like, Totally Pwned Everything

by Daegaer



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Anthropomorphic Personifications, FIFA, Football, Gen, Humor, International Relations, Olympics, Rowing, Sudoku, Vodka, allegorical characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-29
Updated: 2010-08-29
Packaged: 2017-10-20 22:24:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/217733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daegaer/pseuds/Daegaer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five instances that have cheered Poland up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Times Poland, Like, Totally Pwned Everything

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2010 round of Hetalia Sunshine, for Sedynnet, to her prompt _Something good happening to Poland_. Thanks to Puddingcat for beta-reading.

**Announcement of the UEFA 2012 host nation, Cardiff, 2007**

 

"Cup of tea?" England said cheerfully, holding out a tray laden with cups and saucers.

"Piss off, I'm the host here, _I'll_ offer them tea," Wales said, trying to rip the tray from his hands. A brief scuffle ensued while the rest of Europe politely looked the other way. Ukraine found she was holding her breath. She always felt so very uncomfortable when family members fought. She winced at the sound of something heavy hitting the floor.

" _Right_ ," England said, clearing his throat and shoving his brother's limp form under a sofa. "Anyone for tea?" He smiled in a way that suggested everyone should probably drink some tea and possibly endure one of his little cakes, just to keep the atmosphere relatively sweet.

"I'll have some damn tea," Romano said, and pulled the cup away just in time to avoid England splashing in a large measure of milk. "With lemon. I know you buy lemons by the ton, England, so give me some damn lemon."

"They're for _gin_ ," England said, brandishing the milk jug. "Fine. I'll get some lemon." He stalked off, pausing only to deliver a good kick under the sofa. Wales' quiet moans stopped once more.

"When he comes back someone should, like, ask for honey or jam for the tea and see if his head explodes," Poland said.

"What a beautiful thought," France murmured as Ukraine wrung her hands and said,

"Poland, _please_. We want to make a good impression." She smiled tremulously at him. "Please?" This was all a terrible mistake, she thought. She should have teamed up with someone else instead and would have too, if she wasn't such a pushover. Belarus would think she was pathetic, she thought, and fumbled for a handkerchief.

"Hey," Poland said. "What's up? Are you going to cry?"

"N-no," she said, looking down. She squeaked as Poland's arm came round her waist.

"You want to know the secret to not crying?" he murmured in her ear. "It's real easy; you buy the most expensive make-up you can get, the sort of stuff you'd hate to get all smudged. Then you totally can't cry!" He gave her a little squeeze. "Gimme a smile, Ukraine."

She swallowed and peered into his face. "You're wearing mascara," she said.

Poland laughed. "Duh, only for the last several centuries? C'mon, I'm a natural blond, you really thought my eyelashes are black?"

Ukraine found herself smiling, then giggled, thinking of all the years of Poland making himself pretty before getting dressed or putting on armour. She felt better, not so sure she had opened herself up to the mockery of the west by entering this competition in the first place.

 

*

 

 _"Why do you want to put a joint bid in with me?" she had asked. "Don't you want to enter with Lithuania?"_

 _"Pfff," Poland had said, waving a hand. "Too predictable. UEFA totally won't know what hit 'em when we enter, Ukraine. Think of it – we're full of football-mad people, we both want a bit of positive notice from the rest of Europe, we can pick nice areas to build new football grounds 'cause we've both got huge tracts of land -"_

 _He'd laughed when she'd defensively crossed her arms over her chest, and she'd told herself she'd had enough of his bossiness and personal comments in the middle ages and definitely, positively didn't need to get herself caught up in any more of Poland's schemes._

 _Later, she supposed poor Lithuania had always told himself that too._

 

*

 

"Lemon," England announced, entering the room with a plate of sliced fruit. "Shut up, France."

"I said nothing," France smiled. He continued to say nothing in a way that clearly was about to drive England into an apoplectic fit.

Ukraine twisted her hands together and wished Belarus or Russia were there and were talking to her that week, or that she was talking to them. Maybe, if her bid was successful and her boss were very pleased, she'd be allowed to speak to Russia, just for a while. Not that it would be successful, she thought sadly. She didn't have enough friends to make a case for her. She watched Poland wander off to chat to Hungary, and thought she should do likewise. She should talk to the people who were probably going to get the championship, so she wouldn't look like a sore loser. With a deep breath she crossed the room to the Italy brothers and smiled politely.

"Hello, Romano," she said.

"Ve! I'm Veneziano! See, my hair's a bit lighter and I'm the one who smiles!"

"Ah," Ukraine said, feeling foolish.

"Hey, don't act like I'm some sort of surly fucker who doesn't know how to act in public," Romano said. "Ignore my brother, he's a moron."

"Um," Ukraine said.

There was a moment's silence.

Then, "Are you excited about your bid, we're very excited about ours, I didn't know your people liked football so much, do you think England's garden is so nice because it rains all the time here, your hair is a lovely colour, don't eat those cakes I think England made them, I can't wait for the host nation to be announced, look, Hungary just slapped Prussia, poor Prussia, Germany didn't really want him to come but he sulked and said he'd throw a party in Germany's house if he was left by himself and Romano said no one eats pasta here and what are you doing later?" Veneziano said.

"- Pardon?" Ukraine said, her head reeling.

"Later? You could come to dinner with me! And Romano," Veneziano said hurriedly. "Right, Romano?"

Romano's eyes snapped back up to the level of her face. "Right," he said decisively. "It'd be a chance for cultural exchange – I can say all sorts of things in Spanish as well as Italian, Ukraine. How do you say _Kiss me_ in your language?"

"Er," Ukraine said, wondering exactly when each of the Italies had managed to take one of her hands.

"Yoink," Poland said behind her, and pulled her back to his side. "My date, boys. Hi, Italy!" He hugged Veneziano while Romano grumbled about how they were _both_ "Italy," thank you very much. "Stop freaking Ukraine out, she's not used to your crazy Mediterranean ways."

"We just asked her to dinner," Veneziano said innocently.

"Yeah, well we can all go to dinner together," Poland said. "Maybe not here though, my God, I had enough of England's cooking in the nineteen-forties to last me a lifetime. Have you, like, _seen_ what he does to _cabbage?_ "

"Enough chit-chat!" England called. "You lot have come here for a reason, and the sooner it's sorted out the sooner I'll get a bit of peace." He staggered as something seemed to grab his ankle, and stamped down hard, making his unseen assailant withdraw beneath the sofa once more. "After a lot of discussion, the following bids were shortlisted," he said, producing an envelope from his pocket and reading from the notes scribbled on the back, "Hungary and Croatia's joint bid, Italy -" The Italies squeaked and hung on to each other. "- Yes, thank you," England said, "and Poland and Ukraine's joint bid." Ukraine felt a little light-headed as she sneaked a look at Poland. His face was intent and he was whispering under his breath. Looking down, Ukraine saw his rosary clasped tight in his hand.

"Well, they're all very good bids," England said, "choosing one doesn't mean that the others weren't excellent." He scanned his notes. "I'm supposed to say something about encouraging the development of sporting facilities and making countries new to this feel welcome," he said. "Frankly, I can't be arsed. Ukraine and Poland, it's you. You got two-thirds of the votes."

"A-freaking-men," Poland breathed and then, at ear-splitting volume, "Oh my _God_ , Ukraine, oh, my God, oh, my God, oh -"

"Stop the fucking blasphemy!" Romano yelled.

"Congratulations!" Veneziano said, all smiles.

Ukraine blushed as Poland grabbed her, kissed the tip of her nose and whirled her around, bouncing up and down even more than she remembered from when he had first started importing sugar. Then suddenly she didn't care, looking at him laughing with joy, and she jumped as much as he did.

"I'm gonna build a football stadium in Poznań, and one in Wrocław," Poland sang out.

"And one in Kharkiv and one in Lviv," Ukraine said.

"Lwów?" Poland said mischievously.

"Lviv!" she grinned.

"And we'll build other ones and it'll be totally _great_ ," Poland grinned, and hugged her tight.

It would be, Ukraine thought, holding on. It would be.

 

* * * * *

 

 **Olympic Games, Beijing, 2008**

 

"Oh my God, Oh my God, I can’t look, tell me when I can look," Poland said, hiding his eyes. It was so freaking _tense_ , he thought, and his people were doing so well and it was just like his head was going to _explode_ and - "Can I look yet?" He clutched Liet’s arm tightly.

"Denmark’s team is in the lead," Liet said. "Though you probably guessed that."

"Kill them!" Denmark screamed beside them. "Slaughter the opposition - oh, _yeah!_ "

"Quick, look!" Liet said, and Poland squinted back at the water in time to see his team shoot past the finish line in second place.

"Ooh, a medal!" he said, his eyes wide. "Liet, I got a medal!" Then, because he was all for fostering peace and harmony and good international relations and shit, he stuck out his hand. "Hey, congrats, Denmark." It took a while for Denmark to stop jumping for joy and mocking the other teams, but eventually he noticed.

"Thanks," he grinned, taking the offered hand in a hard grip that Poland always thought of as an _I'm-_ such _-a-freaking-man_ handshake. "Not that you stood a chance. Norway! Buy me a beer!"

"Whoa, he is totally the noisiest guy ever," Poland said as the long-suffering Norway led his brother away. "He must freak his neighbours out." Liet gave him one of his _Bitch, please_ looks, then grinned evilly. It suited him. Poland thought he should totally do it more often.

"Slaughter the opposition, bork-bork-bork!" Liet said in the worst Danish accent ever.

"Dude, _Vikings_ ," Poland grinned. "And isn’t that how Sweden talks?"

"Who can tell?" Liet laughed. "Look, they’re giving out the medals." He steadied himself as Poland cuddled against him while the Polish national anthem played, and didn’t say anything when he had to wipe his eyes.

"I’m not crying," Poland said sternly.

"No."

"It’s this crappy eyeliner, it flaked off and got in my eye, that’s all."

Liet just smiled and reached out to tuck his hair behind his ear. "Of course you’re not crying. You never cry. What’s the next event?"

"The men’s quad," Poland said promptly, and chewed his lip. _Crap_ , he thought. _Way to chew your lipgloss off, Polska_. "I’m sort of worried, Liet," he said, really quietly because it was sort of pathetic, was what it was, but Liet wouldn’t tell on him or laugh or any of that bitchy shit. "I didn’t do so great with these guys in the World Cup and I don’t want people to think I’m crap and shouldn’t have entered." He pursed his lips and nodded. "I’m gonna go give them a pep talk. Coming?"

"OK," Liet said, which was just as well, because Poland was already tripping his way down to the water and it would have been a pain to go back to get him, not that he would have expected to need to, seeing as Liet had said OK and been right _there_ for centuries. Poland waited for him to catch up and took a few seconds to check his eyeliner didn't look too bad and to reapply his lipgloss. Right. Time for the dignified entrance and shit.

"Yo, guys," he said, catching the attention of his rowers with a little wave. "I want you to, like, do your best, OK?" He waved vaguely behind him. "You’ve got, like, all the assembled nations of the world watching - no pressure, but let’s show ‘em some Polish victory, huh? Me and Liet - c’mere, Liet - me and Liet are totally cheering you on!" They were looking at him with the sort of expression his people got when they really saw him, and he was suddenly worried that maybe a bit of the eyeliner was about to get in his eye again. "You’re carrying the pride of your nation with you," he said quietly, and maybe eyeliner had got in the captain’s eye too because -

"Oh, _God!_ " someone laughed behind him. Poland looked round in surprise to see Prussia and Germany, Prussia laughing at something or other and Germany doing the _shut-up-shut-up_ hand-wavey thing Liet sometimes did for reasons Poland had never managed to work out. "T-that would have come off a lot better if you hadn’t been dressed like - like -" Prussia spluttered, indicating Poland’s sports-casual ensemble with a gesture, like he didn’t think a preppy shirt and little cardigan went with the pedal pushers.

"Prussia, you are being rude -" Germany said in horrified embarrassment.

"I mean -" Prussia said, and reached out and flicked one of Poland’s hair bobbles. His red-and-white, _patriotic_ hair bobbles. "Hey, West," he grinned. "How many Poles does it take to row a boat?"

"I must apologise for my brother's conduct," Germany said as Liet said,

"Please, Prussia, don’t say that sort of thing -"

Poland felt himself blush scarlet. Then he felt everything get really, really clear in a way it didn’t often, which Liet always said was just as well for the world in general, and Germany had a very surprised look on his face and was pulling Prussia away and Liet was launching into his _Don’t make him angry, you wouldn’t like him when he’s angry_ speech and Poland took a deep breath and -

"Excuse me -"

Caught off-guard, Poland turned back to his rowing team. The captain held out a hand.

"Polska, there’s a place for you here with us."

Poland gathered his dignity round him, rolled his eyes at Prussia, grinned at Liet and stepped onto the scull. It was a lot freaking smaller than it had looked from the shore, he thought, not that he was going to admit to that sort of wussy idea. He sort of crouched down and wrapped his arms round his knees.

"Hold on to the sides," the captain said, and Poland hurriedly did so.

"Are you going to be all right?" Liet said anxiously, looking like he thought someone was going to cause a scene.

"Yeah, I’m with my people," Poland said, and grinned at Liet’s relief. _Love you_ , he thought, _but you’re like_ , so _dramatic_. He kept the smile on his face as they got to the stating line and then the starter fired his gun and -

When asked later, Poland made sure he stressed how exciting it had been and how pretty the light on the water was and how proud he was his team could row so fast because all of that was true and no one needed to know his knuckles had been totally white for ages after, he’d been holding on to the sides of the scull so tight. And then his team had got their medals, and Italy and France were cool about getting silver and bronze, and Italy sang along with his anthem and he sang Italy’s while France sort of hummed along and they all belted out the _Marseillaise_ and made France promise he’d learn the words to other peoples’ anthems sooner or later. And somewhere in amongst the laughing and getting hugged by Liet and all the singing Germany dragged Prussia over to apologise for something Poland couldn’t even remember, because he had better things on his mind, like his team getting interviewed.

"After the disappointing performances earlier in the year, did you have any doubts?" the reporter asked.

"We felt we had our whole country with us," the captain said. "We knew we couldn’t lose."

Poland made sure he laughed as he leant against Liet and fished out a handkerchief. He really had to get a better brand of eyeliner.

 

* * * * *

 

 **World Sudoku Championship, Slovakia, 2009**

 

"Welcome to my house!" Slovakia said, clearly trying to appear calm. "Come and take a breath of its never-ending beauty, its mystery, its hospitality and opportunities. Slovakia, a little big country. And let the best player win!"

The assembled nations competing all applauded politely, then charged the buffet tables en masse.

"Er, make yourselves at home," Slovakia said weakly, and joined the melee, lest all the food vanish within seconds.

"This is so cool," America said. "This _is_ a crazy European burger, right?"

"I believe America-san is correct," Japan said. "And this is some exotic ethnic food?"

"It’s mashed potato, Japan," America said indistinctly through a mouthful of burger.

"How exciting," Japan said with something approaching glee, and put a large spoonful on his plate.

"Don’t eat too much," Hungary said, smiling at Poland. "You don’t want to get a stomach ache and miss the start of the competition in the morning."

"I’m fine," Poland said, "I’ll be, like, fresh as a daisy." He sipped at a sparkling water and watched everyone else eat as if their entire populations had just come off a strict diet.

"On the other hand, you should eat _something_ ," Hungary said. "Have something light at least, like goulash." She went to the table, filled a bowl and pressed it and a spoon on him. Poland stirred it round and reluctantly ate a few mouthfuls. "You’ll be fine," Hungary said kindly. "It’ll be fun."

"It’ll be fun if I don’t totally wipe out," Poland muttered. "Oh my God, Japan’s totally been sending these _helpful_ emails that say how much he’s gonna kick my ass without actually _saying_ that, you know what I mean? How does he even do that?"

"He’s good at it," Hungary said. "He sent them to everyone, don’t feel singled out." She patted Poland's arm and wandered off to get more goulash.

The next morning the competing nations weakly downed painkillers and strong coffee, desperately trying to shift their hangovers before the competition started. They sat at the tables and waited, watching Slovakia watching the seconds tick away until -

"Begin!" Slovakia said, and everyone turned over their papers. The room fell absolutely silent but for the hasty scribble of pencil on paper and the occasional inadvertent groan from headache—stricken nations who had limited themselves to the recommended dosage of paracetamol instead of relying on their landmasses to soak up the overdoses such as other nations had swallowed. The judges from Slovakia's people wandered between the tables quietly.

Japan raised his hand and politely bowed as he handed his completed sheet to a judge. He sat back and regarded the rest of the room with the faintest hint of pleasure in his eyes. Seeing such smug self-satisfaction spurred the rest of the room to greater effort and a moment later America also raised his hand, followed by Hungary. Poland glared at his sheet, crossed out a few numbers, hastily wrote in replacements and finished his final square. He raised his hand and glared in misery at his table as his paper was collected.

In the next round Japan finished first again, followed by America. Serbia, Hungary and Poland all raised their hands simultaneously. The hint of pleasure in Japan's eyes became stronger as he steadily finished first in heat after heat of the individual championships, though it was replaced with an air of puzzlement when he looked at Poland, who consistently handed his paper in third. When the break for lunch was announced, he went over to Poland, who was filling his plate with more enthusiasm than he had shown the previous night.

"Poland-kun is playing very well," Japan said.

"Thanks!" Poland said round a mouthful of breaded pork. "I've totally been practicing -"

"Playing very well for a European indeed," Japan said in a kind tone. "Poland-kun's diligence is to be commended." He smiled as Poland looked forlorn and bowed in farewell as he left to get his own lunch.

"Nice put-down of the westerner, bro," Korea said. "Of course, I invented cutting remarks -"

Japan gave him a silent and deadly look as he strode past.

"- though I'm willing to give you the credit for inventing being a complete bitch," Korea muttered.

After lunch the team competitions got underway, those nations who hadn't entered teams looking on with interest and placing bets. It was quickly apparent that the Czech Republic and Slovakia were engaged in head-to-head combat, finishing game after game in quick succession. They smiled at each other in shows of being good sports, then whispered viciously to their teams, sending dagger-like looks surreptitiously across the room. It was a relief to everyone when the final sheets were handed in and everyone who had bet on Slovakia could collect their winnings.

Hungary wandered away from a happy Austria counting the euros from his successful bet, and strolled over to where Poland was uncharacteristically quiet. "You're looking down, Poland."

"Me? Really?" Poland said, too quickly.

"To someone who knows you, yes. You haven't fought with Lithuania, have you?"

Poland rolled his eyes. " _Please_. Look, he just texted me -" He waved his phone at her, grimly cheerful.

"I never realised he was the sort of person who used so many smiley faces," Hungary said.

"He knows I like 'em," Poland muttered, and stashed the phone away. "Maybe I should tell him not to bother being in the audience later."

"Poland," Hungary said firmly, "you are going to be fine. Of course he should be there. Was Japan trying to put you off again? What did he say?"

"Nothing much," Poland said. "It was more in the delivery. There was a definite amount of ass-kicking implied in the delivery."

"Really," Hungary said. "Why are you acting like you believe him? Just because he invented the game? You're good at games!" She sighed as he looked down at the floor. "Poland, you _are_. Look, what would you do if Prussia had said something like that to you?"

"If Prussia said something subtly? I'd like, faint or something, I don't know," Poland said, and gave an unwilling little laugh. "Then I'd kick _his_ ass."

Hungary put her hands back on his shoulders and turned him to face Japan, who was politely and quietly saying something to America that made him look like he wanted to suck his thumb and cry. "Imagine Japan in chainmail," she said, "with a white surcoat with a big, black cross on it. Remember what you used to do to crusaders?"

"Yeah," Poland said, and stood up a little straighter. "I remember." He grinned goofily at Hungary and gave her a peck on the cheek. "Gotta go pee," he said. "I don't want to need a break in the next round."

He strode off, whistling. Hungary smiled fondly after him. Just for a moment she had seen him in armour, the eagle's wings rising behind him. The afternoon promised to be interesting.

There was no doubt who would be in the final heat. All afternoon Japan, Poland and America had been taking turns at handing their completed sheets in first, and now it was a contest solely between the three of them.

"Hey, guys," America said cheerily. "No matter what happens you're both invited to my place for the weekend, OK? Let the best nation win."

"Dude, you, like, think you're the best nation in the world," Poland said.

"Poland-kun is accurate in his views on America-san's self-opinion," Japan said mildly.

America grinned and cracked his knuckles. "You're still invited over," he said.

"This is _my_ game and I will not be beaten by either of you blond - _bimbos_ ," Japan hissed, and while the others were still blinking, wondering if they'd heard him right, smiled gently and bowed a little. "I look forward to our contest," he said, and glided off to take his seat.

"Did he say -" America started.

"What a snitfit," Poland muttered.

"Hey, relax," America said, and clapped Poland on the back, almost knocking him over. "He won't be mad at _you_ for winning, after all!"

Poland stared after him as he went to his table, then retrieved his phone as it beeped in his pocket. The message was just a heart. He turned at looked out at the audience, and found Lithuania giving him a thumbs-up. Poland grinned as cockily as if nothing bad had ever happened to him and sauntered to his table. He later found he couldn't quite remember what happened next, just filling in square after square, feeling the numbers he entered were coming to him almost randomly. The last puzzle suddenly made no sense and he panicked. _Oh my God_ , he thought, _I've put the nine down twice, or is it the six? Did I get the freaking sheet turned upside-down?_ He scribbled out half his numbers and started again, trying not to focus on the sharp intake of breath from a nearby judge. He half flung the sheet at the judge to be checked, feeling ill as it was borne away and then -

"Pencils down," Slovakia said.

Japan and America looked up from their tables in puzzlement as the judges converged on Poland's table.

"I didn't cheat," Poland said in a little squeak, "seriously, I didn't."

"Of course you didn't," Slovakia said with a grin. "You've _won_."

" _Oh my God!_ " Poland shrieked. "Liet! Hungary! I've freaking _won!_ "

"Dammit," America muttered, tossing his pencil down on his table.

"Felicitations," Japan said in a tone that promised future vengeance.

"America, Liet and Hungary can come to your house for the weekend too, right?" Poland sang out as the other nations, both competitors and audience, gathered round to congratulate him.

"Sure!" America said, regaining his good humour. "Japan? You coming too?"

"I would be delighted to visit, America-san," Japan said. "Though I may need to leave after one day." He regarded Poland coolly. It was clearly not too early to begin preparing for the next year's championship.

 

* * * * *

 

 **The best vodka in the world, 2009**

 

Lithuania was weeding his vegetable garden when the noise started. _EEEEEeeeeeEEEEeee_. He winced, straightening up and looking round in confusion. _What on earth?_ It seemed to be coming from -

 _Attention! This is, like, oh my God, the most interesting thing you will hear today, so listen up, Eastern - hic - Europe -_

\- Poland’s house. Naturally.

 _Polish cuisine is totally the best an’ - an’ doesn’t need one of France’s freaking words anyway, so you can have that back, France, I’ll just, like, say, "cooking" - oh wait, lemme turn the speakers round so France can hear properly -_

Lithuania rolled his eyes and went to the bottom of the garden, where he leaned on the fence and watched Poland struggle with some large speakers, a microphone and what looked like several hundred metres of cable connecting them all. The job was made more difficult by the bottle of vodka he had apparently forgotten he was holding.

"I’m sure I’ll regret asking this," Lithuania said, "but what are you doing?"

"Liet!" Poland said delightedly. "Liet! I’m making totally vital announcements! Hello, Liet!" He waved cheerfully and clutched on to one of the speakers for support.

"Hello," Lithuania said in amusement. He hopped over the fence and strolled up. "You’ll disturb all the neighbours - why don’t I help you take this set-up down?" He bent down to unplug the nearest speaker and was tackled by Poland.

"No! I need it! I haven’t said the most important thing!"

"Uh-huh," Lithuania said, trying to extricate himself from Poland’s grasp and discovering he seemed to have become the new support system. "But you shouldn’t say anything through the speakers, because it’s only three in the afternoon and you’re really very drunk. You’ll be embarrassed when you sober up."

"As if!" Poland whooped and staggered off to half-bend down, half-collapse as he picked up a microphone from the ground. "Hey, Eastern Europe!" he yelled, and squeaked in surprise at the squeal of feedback. He held the microphone a little further from his mouth and went on, "Just, like, give up making vodka now, ‘cos it all totally stinks compared to mine, ‘cos mine’s totally been voted the _BEST IN THE WORLD_ \- Liet, don’t unplug that -" A brief and undignified tussle followed, ending with the microphone cord being wrapped round them both several times, Poland losing his footing and falling, dragging Lithuania down with him. "You’re so mean," he said in a vague way.

"Mean?" Lithuania said. He felt that to be rather unfair, given that he had broken Poland’s fall and currently was being used as a pillow. "Thanks a _lot._ "

"Don’t get mad," Poland said, his eyes crossing slightly as he tried to focus from a very close distance. "Why’re you mad? You’re my best friend, I don’t want you to be mad at me -" He began to sniffle.

 _Oh-oh_ , Lithuania thought.

"You’re my best friend!" Poland wailed, at a volume close to what the speakers had provided. "I love you, don’t get mad, Liet!" He patted clumsily at Lithuania’s face with the hand that wasn’t clenched firmly round the vodka bottle.

"I’m not annoyed," Lithuania said, wheezing under Poland’s full weight. "I just want to get up."

"You’re my best friend," Poland repeated. "We’ve totally been through so much crap together, Liet -"

"I know, I was there," Lithuania said. He patted Poland’s back as best he could, given the tightness of the microphone cord. "You’re my best friend too. Let’s get up, OK?" He looked to the side as he heard giggles and saw Latvia sitting on the fence, Estonia ready to catch him if he toppled off. Even as Lithuania thought, _At least they’re not taking pictures,_ Estonia raised his iPhone and took a few snaps. Lithuania had a clear mental image of Estonia’s next blog post and wondered how this always happened to him. _Oh well, too late to worry now_ , he thought, suddenly feeling the urge to giggle at his predicament.

"Hey, Liet, my vodka was voted best in the world," Poland said, resting his head against Lithuania’s chest.

"By someone other than you?"

"Yeah, totally - are you making fun of me?"

"No," Lithuania grinned.

"You are, but that’s, that’s OK, ‘cos we’re, like, best friends. Look! I have a certificate -" After a few seconds of wriggling, Poland gave up. "I forget which pocket it’s in," he sighed, then brightened. "Oh, yeah, I have vodka! Want some vodka, Liet?"

"Maybe later," Lithuania said, trying to avoid getting hit on the head with the bottle. "Please get off me."

"You can have some now," Poland said happily, and managed to get the bottle cap between his teeth, awkwardly prising it out before he cheerfully attempted to dribble vodka into Lithuania’s mouth.

"Get off! I’m not drinking vodka from the bottle while flat on my back in someone else’s garden! Who do you think I am, Russia?"

Lithuania paused at the _eep_ noise from Latvia and then rolled Poland over a bit so he could look further down the fence. Ukraine was standing in her garden looking at them quizzically, while in Belarus’ -

"Hello, Russia!" Poland yelled, trying to climb upright and succeeding only in tangling the cord tighter. "Your vodka stinks!"

"My brother does not lie around in people’s gardens drinking!" Belarus snapped.

"It’s true, we were gardening, not sunbathing," Russia said mildly. A look of alarm crossed his face as the idea of _sunbathing with Russia_ very visibly took residence in Belarus’ mind. "Would you like some help, Lithuania? Please?"

"Stop _squirming_ , Poland," Lithuania said. "Yes, please, could _someone_ untie us?"

Russia clambered eagerly over the fence and poked at them experimentally. "This is very tight," he said.

"Ow, gerroff," Poland muttered, trying to take a swig from his bottle.

"Maybe I should cut it," Russia said, producing a pair of secateurs from his pocket and waving them far too close for Lithuania’s comfort. "I was pruning Belarus’ rosebushes," he said earnestly. "You mustn’t believe anything else she says."

"We won’t," Lithuania said quickly as Poland’s face took on a _I-have-the-perfect-drunken-retort_ expression.

"Why don’t we just unravel them?" Estonia’s voice said from behind Russia. He emerged and tried to push Lithuania and Poland over, pulling at the cord. "See? If we turn them over and over -"

"It’d be like one of Philippines' yo-yos," Ukraine said, hopping over her fence.

 _Oh, great_ , Lithuania thought, as all his neighbours converged. "How come you always land us in these embarrassing situations?" he whispered as a multi-cultural discussion on the most amusing way to free them started up above their heads.

"I’m never embarrassed," Poland said vaguely and peered up. "Liet! Liet, I’m being invaded! Again!"

"We’re not invading, we’re helping," Ukraine said gently, bending over to pat Poland on the head.

"Why don’t we just pull them out of the cord this way?" Latvia said from somewhere at their feet, followed by a surprised noise and then a shriek.

"Latvia!" Estonia cried.

"Dude, someone just totally stole my shoe," Poland said confidentially in Lithuania’s ear.

"Brother, give me the secateurs. I will rescue Latvia from the roses."

"Russia, please don’t give Belarus anything sharp - oh, _dear_ ," Ukraine said.

 _Oh dear, indeed_ , Lithuania thought peering up at Ukraine silhouetted against the sky as she wrung her hands and stared in the direction of Latvia’s shrieking. Russia’s face appeared over him.

"Please don’t stare at my sister's breasts," he said sternly, and grabbed hold of the cord. "Like one of Philippines' yo-yos," he muttered and gave a sharp tug while flipping them over quickly with one foot. They came to a rest at the furthest speaker, free and dizzy. Lithuania staggered up, using the speaker to keep his balance, and saw Poland already wandering away with the ease of the very drunk, what remained of his vodka sloshing in the bottle he still held in his hand.

"Best! In! The! World!" Poland declaimed. "Where’s the freaking mic?" He peered round in surprise at all his neighbours, ready assembled and staring at him. "Right. Everyone’s here, so - my vodka’s better’n yours and yours and yours -" he turned round in a circle, punctuating his words with gulps of vodka," - and it’s better ‘cos it’s made with _determination_ an’ _grit_ -"

"Not too much grit, I hope," Ukraine said anxiously. "That’d be terribly bad for the digestion."

"- an’ - an’ other shit that grows in Polish soil!" Poland finished, grinning triumphantly before breaking into shaky song. " _Jeszcze Polska nie zginęła, Kiedy my żyjemy_ -" he started, wandering away and quite suddenly falling face first into his marigolds. Lithuania dizzily weaved his way over to find he was snoring softly, asleep and unhurt.

"Would you like some help carrying him inside?" Ukraine said.

Lithuania looked at Latvia cowering further into the ruins of a rosebush to avoid Belarus’ secateurs and Estonia trying to drag him through it from the other side. Russia cautiously backed away from the scene, keeping his eyes on Belarus till he was at the fence, where he quickly climbed over and ran flat out in the direction of his own house.

"Please," Lithuania said.

Poland was heavier than he looked, but between them was easily carried into his sitting room and deposited on the sofa. Lithuania took off his remaining shoe and settled a cushion comfortably under his head as Ukraine eased the vodka bottle out of his vice-like grip.

"Well, let’s see what the "best in the world" tastes like," Lithuania said, and took a drink. "Not bad," he said graciously, offering the bottle back to Ukraine.

"Best in the world," Poland mumbled, turning over and falling deeper into happy sleep.

Ukraine giggled and brushed his hair back from his face as Lithuania smiled fondly at him. He was so _pleased_ , he thought, and said, "You get some glasses from the kitchen, and I’ll get another bottle or two. We can try to stop the others destroying the whole garden."

He patted Poland’s shoulder and decided to wake him in half an hour. It would be a shame for him to miss an impromptu party in his own house.

 

* * * * *

 

 **World Sudoku Championship. Philadelphia, 2010**

 

Japan took a calming breath and looked round the room impassively. He was sure he could beat everyone taking part. This was _his_ game, after all. There was just the matter of one dark horse – or, in this case, one blond, irritatingly perky horse. Japan felt minor irritation rise in his heart as he watched Poland chatting with the other competitors. _Tsk_ , he chided himself. _There's no need to get so overly emotional, Nihon_. He knew how to deal with this, he told himself. He drifted up to Poland and smiled politely. Poland looked rather sceptical, he thought, as if he were ready to shrug off a subtle attack. Japan allowed himself to smile. Subtlety was wasted on westerners generally and on Poland in particular.

"I am going to beat you," Japan said without preamble. "Any success you may have had with sudoku is but a fluke and no one sees it otherwise." He leant in closer to whisper, "You can best avoid humiliation and the mockery of the whole world by withdrawing from the championship. I say this in your best interests."

"Whoa," Poland said. "What do you say when you want to be mean?"

"I am never mean," Japan said, enjoying the look on Poland's face. "May you enjoy the best of luck," he added, and walked to his seat. He casually looked back. Poland appeared worried. Excellent. He watched him chewing his lip and not appearing quite as perky as he had earlier, then frowned as he marched up to him and stood there, hands on hips.

"Dude," Poland said. "I, like, figured out that was some sneaky psychological attack."

"Sneaky?" Japan said, wondering how much clearer he could have been.

"So, _anyway_ , you can, like, consider me still totally _in_."

"Poland-kun's bravery is well-renowned," Japan said. "As is his foolhardiness." He turned away and deliberately ignored the outraged spluttering behind him. _Such an inelegant language_ , he thought, waiting for the first round to begin.

Later, of course, as he watched Poland dance around, the trophy in his arms, Japan reflected that the other fact he had learned about Poland was that successfully conveying to him that one thought he was an idiot was a tactic that rarely worked out all that well.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

**Author's Note:**

>   
> **Notes:**   
> 
> 
> _2007 - UEFA picks a host nation for the 2012 championships_ : In April 2007, Poland and Ukraine's joint bid to host the final stages of the UEFA championships [won out over the other short-listed bids](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/UEFA_Euro_2012), put forward by Italy and Hungary/Croatia. Poland and Ukraine got [eight out of a possible twelve](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/UEFA_Euro_2012#Bid_history) votes. Poland ate a lot of England's cooking in the nineteen-forties because the [Polish Government in exile](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Polish_government-in-exile) was established in London in 1940. [Lviv](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lwow) (in Polish, Lwów) is a major city in Ukraine. From 1349-1772 and from 1918-1939, it belonged to Poland.
> 
>  _2008 - Beijing Olympics_ : In rowing Poland took the [silver in the light men's four](http://www.row2k.com/olympics/features.cfm?ID=2071) and the [gold in the men's quad](http://www.sports-reference.com/olympics/summer/2008/ROW/mens-quadruple-sculls.html) as two of [the total of ten medals](http://sportsillustrated.cnn.com/olympics/2008/medals/by_country/pol.html) awarded to Polish sportsmen and women.
> 
>  _2009 - World Sudoku Championship_ : After a tense competition, Poland [was acclaimed world champion](http://www.worldpuzzle.org/championships/sudoku_2009/index.html) after Jan Mrozowski's victory. Slovakia's speech is a quotation of part of the opening speech of the championship in 2009.
> 
>  _2009 - Best vodka in the world_ : in 2009, Belvedere Polish vodka was voted [the best in the world](http://www.facebook.com/group.php?gid=91247709404), and won [numerous awards](http://www.belvederevodka.com/blog/most-awarded-brand-vodka-masters). Poland's celebratory song is the Polish national anthem, [Poland is Not Yet Lost](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Poland_Is_Not_Yet_Lost). The lines he sings are, in English, _Poland has not yet perished! So long as we still live . . ._ ([Another translation](http://lyricsondemand.com/miscellaneouslyrics/nationalanthemslyrics/polandnationalanthemlyrics.html)). While the yo-yo's [history as a Filipino weapon](http://www.yoyomuseum.com/museum_view.php?action=profiles&subaction=yoyo) is a common story as to its origins, it seems to be found [in a number of ancient cultures](http://yoyowiki.org/wiki/History_of_the_yo-yo).
> 
>  _2010 - World Sudoku Championship_ : In this year, [Poland successfully defended his position as world champion](http://wpc.puzzles.com/wsc2010/) when Jan Mrozowski won the individual competition for the second year in a row.


End file.
